Dear Rachel:
by MisterMitty
Summary: A most unusual letter makes its way into Oliver's hands.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 |

"Oliver," a voice whispered.

Sleep clung to Oliver's mind like frost to the shady side of an iceberg. He wasn't ready to wake, did not want to wake, he was curled up with hope and refused to be parted from it. The memories of Shane reading the letters she had written to him were still fresh and wonderful and he refused to let go of them.

"Oliver," the whisper grew louder.

Even in sleep, his heart beat faster at the memory of how she looked when his chair had turned to reveal her return, the moment their eyes had met, and the sudden flood of love that had washed over him.

"Oliver," the whisper was joined by a hand shaking his shoulder.

His arms tightened and he smiled to find them full of Shane McInerney. "Mmm," he sighed. "A-sleep. Go-way."

"Oliver!" Rita's voice took on a demanding tone and he blinked his eyes open. The brunette's face was inches from his own. She was smiling. "Oliver," her voice returned to a whisper. "It's morning and people are arriving for work. As much as I love finding you and Shane like this, it might cause problems."

"Mmm," Shane sighed, burrowing deeper into Oliver's arms.

Sometime during the reading of letters, the two had moved to the old leather couch at the back of the DLO. Comfortable. Too comfortable. Now, several hours later, Oliver was reclined with his feet on the matching ottoman, and Shane stretched out on the couch with her head resting on his chest. The two had happily fallen asleep in each other's arms.

"What?" Oliver asked, blinking sticky icicles from his eyes. "Rita? What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Rita laughed and nudged Shane with her shoulder. "I am so happy to see you back," she whispered. "But you have to get up now before Supervisor Fuentes comes in and issues of proper employee comportment hit the fan."

Shane rolled, stretching both arms wide, accidentally punching Oliver in the side of the face, until she was staring at Rita. Her face broke into a wide grin. "Rita. Give us a hug." She did, they did, Oliver groaned loudly.

"Ladies," he admonished. "Please stand."

Falling asleep on a couch has one very unfortunate side effect; the Rip Winkle Syndrome that ages an adult body by several decades during slumber. Shane seemed to be immune, however, and jumped up and then jumped into Rita's arms to continue the hug. Oliver, the old one, stood in crinkling stages, forcing joints to bend while making loud crackling noises while he moaned pitifully. "Not doing that again," he said.

"Yes we will," Shane laughed.

The door to the DLO was forced open with a loud bang as Supervisor Fuentes, known to her lessers as Genghis the Can't, barged in pushing a large wheeled hamper filled with undelivered mail. "Standing around! Always standing around! Get to work people!"

The three Postables flashed matching Cheshire grins, Rita and Oliver said nothing. "Weren't standing a minute ago," Shane mumbled.

"Ugh," Shane groaned after the door had closed. "I have been in this dress for two days."

Oliver pulled her close and gave her a kiss while dropping his car keys into her hand. "Take my car, go home, shower, change, take your time. You're home now."

Rita gasped when Shane slipped her arms round Oliver's neck and kissed him, with obvious pleasure and gusto. "Oh my," Rita gasped. "That's a kiss." Oliver blushed as Shane grabbed her jacket and purse and headed for the door.

"What about you?" Rita asked.

"I have an emergency grooming kit in my desk, including an aerosol can of "Instant Shower," he said with a smile. "I will do the best I can with what I've got," Oliver said.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 |

"These letters are all stamped "Out of System"," Norman said. "Some of them are very old." He looked at several. "Can't be sure where they came from."

"The US Postal System works in mysterious ways, Norman," Oliver said.

"You can say that again," Shane laughed.

Rita was staring at one particular envelope, turning it over and over. "Wow," Norman said. "That's the whitest envelope I have ever seen."

"Uhm," Rita offered, attracting Oliver's attention. "This is weird," she added and turned the envelop three more times, looking at both side. Oliver started towards her.

"What's weird?" Shane asked.

"The – uh – the address is just the name 'Oliver' and the – uh – return addressee just says, 'God'."

"What?" Norman and Oliver said together.

"It says, to 'Oliver' and from 'God'." She held up the envelope so they could see it.

Oliver took the envelope and turned it several times, then laid it on the counter and stared at it. "That is a very white envelope," he said. "Not sure I've ever seen one that bright."

"Look at the penmanship," Norman said, staring with admiration. "It's perfect, beautiful."

"Well, it would have to be if God wrote it," Shane laughed.

"I think the ink is gold," Norman added. He looked closely with his jeweler's loupe. "It is gold," he gasped.

"Should I open it?" Oliver asked.

"It does have your name on it."

"This is most unusual," the lead Postable said. Shane stepped next to him and slipped an arm around his waist, then reached for his favorite letter opener and handed it to him. "Ok," he said and slipped the opener under the flap of the envelope, the blade made a soft 'swish' as it separated paper fiber. Oliver pulled the envelope open and carefully removed a second envelope that was inside. "Now this is most peculiar," he said, turning the second envelope over and over.

"What, Oliver?"

"There is no flap on this second envelope," he said. "It's all one piece, there is no way to open it. I can feel a letter inside, but the only way to read it would be to destroy the outside."

"So how did the letter get inside?"

"I would suggest you read the return address again," Oliver said almost curtly. "It does say 'God'. He made the world in six days, I'm sure a sealed envelope is no problem for Him."

"Oliver," Shane nodded at the envelope in his hand. "Who is the second envelope addressed to?"

"Rachel Lewis, 16 Ephesians Avenue, Colby, Kansas. Under that it says, "To be hand delivered." There is no return address."

"So what does that mean?" Rita asked.

"Colby is about 4 hours from here, but you can't go there," Norman said. "They got hit with a tornado last night and most of it doesn't exist now. It was on the news this morning."

The four Postables stood one on each side of the table with the impossible envelope between them, exchanging glances with each other, waiting for someone to offer a solution. "So," Shane gave Oliver a very odd look. "A letter that can't be opened with an address to a place that has been destroyed. Now what?"

"I didn't read all of the address," Oliver added quietly. "There's more. It says, "To be hand delivered by Oliver O'Toole and Shane McInerney.""

"What?" was an exclamation spoken simultaneously by three voices.

"Oh." Shane blinked several times, then looked at the envelope sealed as tightly as a tomb, turning it over and over in her hands. "You need to shower first, Oliver. No offense."

"None taken. I have been in these clothes for two days and did take a very long walk yesterday afternoon."

"Do you want us to go?" Rita asked.

"I think we should stay and get caught up on this mess," Norman suggested.

Oliver sighed, looking at the envelope again. "Works for me," he said, sounding a bit unsure.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 |

For most people, the thought of a four-hour drive would elicit groans of monotony or yawns of indifference. But for a couple who has been separated for three months, four hours together was a luxurious blessing. Conversation from the night before came back, seemingly uninterrupted, and continued. Hands touched, fingers caressed, hearts became closer as the miles – and time apart – evaporated behind Oliver's Jaguar.

Colby, Kansas, Zip Code 67701, appeared in the windshield in the early afternoon, bathed in bright sunshine. But that bath only served to spotlight devastation. Two-thirds of the town had been wiped from the face of the earth. Evidence of the storm the day before was clearly visible to the northeast as a dark bank of menacing cloud that rested heavily on the horizon.

Oliver stopped the car, staring numbly at what had been a thriving community. Beside him, Shane sounded like she was choking back tears. She was. Sobbing quietly, she opened her laptop and called up a photograph of Colby taken months ago. The landscape was as flat as a dime and the town was clearly visible, spread along a distinctive main street. Hundreds of homes with beautifully manicured yards could be seen, spotted with trees, beautiful elms, maple, sycamore and lots of cottonwood. Oliver gasped when he saw the photo, the view outside the windshield offered no similarities.

At the west end town stood the massive grain silos of reinforced concrete, the main street was visible, what little of it was not covered with debris, half the buildings had no roofs, all had no windows, cars were piled like drifted snow against the stone and brick buildings of the business district. Two blocks from downtown, was a pile of wreckage that had been a school, with playground equipment wrapped around crumpled yellow buses. Colby was nearly a mile wide, yet the only homes still standing were along the fringes. There were no trees, anywhere, only naked trunks denuded of leaves and small limbs, many of which had collected the twisted remains of cars. Flashing red and blue lights had sprung up in a dozen places, scattered among the ruin of so many lives.

Oliver got out of the car, staring with disbelief. Shane joined him, sliding under his arm. "This is terrible."

"Uh-hum," she sniffled. A cloud chose that moment to slip between Colby and the sun, casting a dark shadow over the town, making the flashing lights of emergency vehicles seem even brighter. "Oh Oliver, look!" she cried, pointing toward the darkened bank of receding storm. Every storm since the day Noah looked out of his small window at the top of the ark, has given mankind the same promise from God, the inviting shimmer of a rainbow.

"Even in the storms there is hope to be found if we look for it, Ms McInerney."

Shane turned and stared up into his face and sighed. "Yes, there is Mr. O'Toole. I found hope in a stupid pen, thank you very much."

"Question, Ms McInerney. I don't see any street signs left standing, how are we going to find Rachel Lewis?"

"My laptop. The GPS still works, even without street signs. We might have to walk part of it though. Be careful what we step on."

After parking the Jaguar in front of the town bank that had lost one wall, exposing the safe, they set off on foot, listening to the GPS locator speaking from Shane's laptop. "At the next corner, turn left," it said when they came to a break in the destruction. The stop sign had been flattened and a white Buick had been curled around a tree trunk as if it were ribbon, but the pavement and sidewalk were clear to see. "In one half block you will reach your destination.

They did.

Their destination was not much more than a cement foundation where a house had once stood, the splintered remains of a front porch, broken and scattered furniture, soiled clothes, and the soggy remains of a garage that had been peeled like a grape. The only thing left standing was a porch swing, intact and unharmed, and squeaking softly in the breeze. A deflated woman was sitting on a tree stump in front of the missing house and had her head hanging woefully between her knees.

Oliver and Shane stopped where the picket fence had been, waiting for the woman to look up. She didn't. "Hello Rachel," Oliver said.

Shane did a double take from Oliver to the woman and back. "You know her?" Oliver nodded but said nothing. "Is this like another Dale?" She almost sounded miffed. Oliver shook his head. "Oliver honey, we have to work on our communication skills," she whispered. "Part of going steady is learning how to communicate."

The woman looked up and seemed to pose for a moment. Her face was the face of the defeated, her eyes filled with the dull glaze of failure. She blinked when she saw Oliver, and then her mouth twitched as if it had smiled once, but would not again without great effort. Then she sighed and her frame sagged back down. When she spoke her voice was clear, but exhausted. "Oliver O'Toole," she groaned. "What kind of pathetic joke is this?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 |

"I don't see or hear from you in fifteen years and you show up today with no warning at all? Is it part of God's plan to pour salt into the wound? Look and see me," the woman cried, her voice crippled by grief. "For you see me on the day that love was torn from my soul and all my hope is scattered from here to the edge of the county." Her voice faded like a puff of steam in a wind as she looked down at the muddy grass under her feet. "You always were late O'Toole," she whispered. "God has deserted me on the day I needed Him most."

"She does seem to know you." Shane whispered out of one side of her mouth.

The woman stood, wiped mud from her hands, using the front of her already soiled dress, then turned to look at Oliver again. She tried to smile and failed, then collapsed back onto the stump, weeping. Oliver moved quickly, kneeling beside her, offering soothing words and a comforting arm. Shane hesitated briefly, then followed, kneeling opposite Oliver. A single loud clap of thunder rolled toward them from the distant storm, punctuating the moment. She looked up at the dark clouds, then smiled at the rainbow she saw glowing there. Lying in the mud near her knees was an open Bible with rain soaked pages. Her eyes found one line of scripture on the page and she read and then gasped. "Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience." Letting her weight settle back onto her heels, she looked up at the rainbow, suddenly humbled. "I remember," she said softly as she let the soiled Bible rest on her lap. It was a simple prayer, but it was born in a grateful soul.

Early afternoon waned and the tears finally stopped. "I heard you had married a beautiful wife," Rachel said. "Is this her?"

Shane was looking around the debris strewn yard, searching for something to sit on and get out of the mud. Part of her mind heard the woman's question, but skipped any meaning as she spied what looked like an intact lawn chair.

"No, it isn't," Oliver said. "But I have hope."

Wait! What? Shane's head snapped around and she stared at Oliver.

"What did you mean when you said that love had been torn from you?" Oliver asked the woman.

Rachel choked back a sob as the tears threatened to begin again. "It was last night; the tornado was close but Thomas wanted to try and batten down the barn. Said it would be worth the effort, so I went with him. When we realized that it was too late, that we had stayed too long in the open and the tornado was on top of us, we started running for the shelter at the back of the house. Thomas was only twenty feet behind me, shouting for me to run faster. And then he was gone, just disappeared. I fell into the shelter just moments before the awful beast passed over." She started sobbing again. "It took so long to find love," she moaned, "I can't lose him. I looked this morning," she cried, "but couldn't even find a body to bury."

Shane reached across Rachel and plucked Oliver's handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to the woman. His mouth moved, but he said nothing.

Sometime later, the air around Colby, Kansas was still. The wailing sirens of emergency vehicles had stopped their cries. Oliver was holding Rachel's hand and the tears had stopped. Again. "May I ask how you two met?" Shane asked.

"Sunday School," Rachel said. "We were in the same church, same class. Oliver always had so many questions. That was more than a few years ago."

Oliver made an odd sound, and Shane was not sure if it came from air going in or coming out. He caught her eye and she saw amusement there. "The last time that I saw Rachel," he said, "was fifteen years ago. She was working with a company that did catering and event planning." Shane drew back slightly as the glint of amusement seemed to get brighter.

Then it was Rachel who chuckled softly. "I remember well the day I changed his life dear," she said

Shane shook her head, looking confused. "There were times when the event planner scheduled one too many kid's birthday parties on the same day and Rachel would be forced to don the clown costume and the fright wig, and drive the van carrying the bouncy castle to the party, and then make balloon animals for yard apes," Oliver said.

"Let's pretend I'm not following," Shane said.

Oliver smiled. "The day she changed my life was the day when the van got away from her and there was an incident involving a gas canister, a mailbox and its contents suddenly scattered over half a city block."

Shane wanted to laugh, she really did. But graciously covered her mouth with one hand.

"Yeah," Rachel said. "The catering company suggested I pursue another career after that. So tell me how it is that you managed to be here today, Oliver."

Oliver and Shane looked at each other and smiled. "Divine delivery," he said. Rachel gave him a please-tell-me-more look. "Every so often, a large hamper of mail comes into the Dead Letter Office that has been misplaced for some time. Yesterday was one of those days. I, we have no idea how long the pile had been lost, but hidden among the bulk was a very elegant envelope with my name on it and the return address, "God". When we opened it, there was another envelope inside addressed to Rachel Lewis in Colby, Kansas, along with instructions that it be delivered in person by Oliver O'Toole and Shane McInerney."

"What? Yesterday? How is that possible?"

Shane leaned closer to the woman. "Oliver said it himself, the Post Office works in mysterious ways."

Rachel shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. "You received a letter yesterday telling you to come here today? Why didn't you receive the letter two days ago telling you to come here and prevent this tragedy," she waved at the empty place where her house used to sit. Shane took her hand and held it tight.

"Rachel, I do not know the answer. The envelope was a complete surprise and until I saw you sitting on that stump, did not realize that it was you."

Rachel Lewis stared at Oliver for several seconds with her mouth hanging open. "Well then. Maybe we should take a look at this envelope."

Oliver reached inside his jacket, blinked twice, and then removed a folded letter. The envelope had disappeared. He stared, blinked twice more, and handed the letter to Shane. "It says that you are supposed to read this."

"What? Me? Why?"

"Mysterious ways, Ms McInerney." Oliver shook his head. "None of this makes sense."

"Fine then. " Shane unfolded the letter and started reading.

 _Dear Rachel,_

 _From the day that you made the choice to trust Me, nothing has ever been about your timing. For example, this letter was mailed early to arrive late but just in time to prove one point; it's all about My timing. You see, I know your sitting down and your rising up, I understand your thoughts even from far away. I understand the path you walk and all your clever defenses. There is not a word on your tongue that I don't know ahead of time. Yet there you sit, unwilling to trust me with the unknown. But you are not alone._ _The man I had deliver this letter is afraid. His fear is that he has somehow failed and that his faith is now worthless._

Shane stopped and looked up, meeting Oliver's eyes, and then tears became pools as she saw the truth written there. "Just read," he said.

 _If his faith is void, why did he travel all this way to deliver an envelope with your name on it? His faith has never been little and has never failed. When he needed it most, it was there for him. You see Rachel, on the longest night of his life, he believed, like you, that love had been torn from his soul, abandoning him to loneliness._

Shane looked at Oliver again, but he would not meet her eyes.

 _So he went for a very long walk. On his walk he came face to face with a specter, a young blonde woman standing at a coffee cart. What he would not admit, was that the sight of her blonde hair crushed all hope from his heart the way one crushes water from a sponge. He was broken in a single moment._

 _He could have given up, walked away, forsaken faith and a dream of a future happiness, but he didn't. He had one mustard seed of faith left, so he turned back. But before returning to the comforting succor of work, he stopped at the only place he had never felt alone. At his church, he walked to the altar and fell to his knees and he prayed a very simple prayer, asking for only one thing. He asked Me to bring the woman reading this letter back to him._

Shane sobbed, letting the letter fall. Oliver had not told her where he'd gone before returning to the DLO, but now, rememebering the look of shock on his face when she turned his chair around made perfect sense. "Oliver, I'm sorry," she whispered.

Oliver picked up the letter and continued reading.

 _Blessed are the poor and broken in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Do you see it, Rachel? There is an incredible beauty to brokenness, and a potential as vast as heaven._

 _Do you know why I love oak trees, Rachel? Ok, it's a rhetorical question. I love oak trees because every one of those heralds of faith started out as a nut that refused to give up. Even now, as you hear this, there is still a mustard seed of hope inside your heart for your Thomas. As Oliver learned, that's all it takes._

 _So do not fear, I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Don't give up, Rachel, for I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future._

 _Finally, dear Rachel, what you don't know is that at the moment the storm gripped Thomas in its massive hand, he did not doubt, but called out to Me. With all love,_

 _God_

"Rachel!" a voice cried loudly from the street.

When all three turned to look, it was Rachel who jumped to her feet and ran shouting for the disheveled, mud covered figure standing where a gate used to be. She reached Thomas at full speed, tumbling them both onto the wet street. It didn't matter, what mattered was that her love had come back to her and if that meant they would celebrate hope by rolling across the pavement, then they would roll. Shane stepped next to Oliver, picked up his right arm and draped it over her shoulder, and together they shared the couple's joy.

Two hours later and halfway back to Denver, Oliver was humming softly to himself as Shane worked intently with her laptop. Finally, with a deep sigh, she closed it, slid out of her seat belt so she could sit next to him.

"Did you get through the back channels?"

"Yes," she said. "I pulled a few strings. When Rachel and Thomas go to file for disaster relief, they will find that their application is already approved for a zero interest rebuilding loan."

"Nicely done, Ms McInerney."

"Now," Shane said, staring at the side of his face with a grin. "What's this I hear about a beautiful new wife?"


End file.
